


deus ex nihilo

by Valinde (Valyria)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Dean, Angel Mating, Community: spnkink_meme, Dubious Consent, Godstiel: Castiel as God, Illustrated, M/M, Not Beta Read, Prompt Fic, Rape/Non-con Elements, Wing Kink, and the angels are gods?, but more god!dean i guess, i dont even kno wat this is, sort of, there are pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-01 23:36:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valyria/pseuds/Valinde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lost on an uncharted island, Dean Winchester is captured by the local villagers and offered up as a sacrifice to their winged god.<br/>Castiel takes one look at Dean and decides he wants him for a mate.</p><p>AU prompt fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> a fill to this prompt:  
>  _AU where Dean is exploring some uncharted island/forest/jungle/whatever. The natives see him and think that they've finally found the perfect mate for their god Castiel - the winged man with inhuman strength who lives hidden away somewhere in the trees - and just in time for their monthly offering. They take Dean away to their village despite the fight he puts up._
> 
> _Castiel is pleased, and carries Dean off to claim him properly. He tries to be as gentle as possible, considering that his pretty mate keeps trying to squirm away and generally refuses to hold still or relax. Once Castiel has fully satisfied himself, he falls asleep with his arms and wings wrapped contentedly around his new mate._

* * *

His humans were showing unusual enthusiasm in their chanting.

Their sweet voices and the rhythm of their music rang across the island and vibrated across his grace, calling to him even as they praised him. But Castiel, enjoying the strength their devotion lent him, did not hurry to the temple. Instead he flew leisurely as their prayers and hymns buoyed him along, tending to the needs of his flock from high above.

In the terraced fields on the east, he swooped and pressed some of his power into the crops, ridding them of the blight threatening to take root. In the thick jungle south of the fields he dissuaded a jaguar from making a meal of the small human child playing and pointed it instead towards a plump peccary snuffling in the undergrowth nearby.

From high above the crescent of the southern shore, he spotted two of his humans - a newly mated couple whose union he had blessed at the previous full moon - lying entwined, naked and sated, pressing kisses to one another’s skin as they sunned themselves on the white sand. They should have been with the rest of his people at the temple, but Castiel found their youth and beauty pleasing and he was a kind god, not a jealous one, so instead of cursing them he offered a blessing. It took only the slightest twist of his grace to ensure the female had conceived. Neither of them noticed off course, humans were remarkably oblivious, but Castiel knew both would offer their thanks in the form of extra prayer and song when they did eventually realize.

Content that nothing pressing required his attention, Castiel swooped up to the north and headed for the temple set at the foot of his mountain. His humans were still chanting excitedly, and Castiel grew curious. The last time they had called to him so animatedly - several generations of their kind earlier - they had prepared a gift for him. They had traded with the humans under Gabriel’s care on the island across the reef for the bright gold they favored above the silver they chipped from their own cliffs. At that time there had been a talented artist amidst their number and she had laboriously cast the gleaming metal into a tall statue of Castiel. It still stood at the center of his temple, outstretched wings inlaid with jet and eyes of sapphire, polished to a high gleam by the priests that tended the altars.

It was therefore with some excitement and curiosity that Castiel slipped into human perception and let his people observe his arrival. He flared his wings proudly, the sable curve of them stretching against the blazing reds and yellows of sunset, and gracefully landed before them. The white sand of the courtyard had been carefully smoothed and sweet wood burned in the braziers set into the carved stone of the temple walls. As one his people went down on their knees, exalting his name in devotion, as was Castiel’s right.

His flicked his eyes over them briefly, pleased at seeing them so brightly dressed and healthy. His tribe was a happy and beautiful one and a source of pride for Castiel. In comparison Gabriel’s were prone to gluttony and laziness, Lucifer’s to violence, Raphael’s to feuds and vendettas and Michael’s humans, whilst a prosperous people, always seemed wane and exhausted from how he hard he worked them. Castiel’s humans often prayed to him giving thanks that they were blessed to be born under his care than any other gods. His father had named pride a sin, but Castiel felt no shame in enjoying watching his humans flourish.

He waited as the current head priest, a woman richly dressed in the red robe and golden headdress that she and her predecessors had been wearing more or less unchanged for several centuries, called out a blessing in his name and directed his attention to the altar of offering at the rear of the temple.

The altar itself was bare save decorative flowers, but the carved stone sacrifice pillar had been oiled with sacred holy oil and prepared with woven strands of fresh flowers. There was excited murmuring from the humans. Castiel waited curiously. Unlike his brother Lucifer, he did not accept sacrifice beyond that of gifts of meat to feed his priests. He wondered idly if his humans had captured an exotic beast to make offering of. A rare black jaguar perhaps, or one of the strange creatures from the mainland they sometimes traded for.

The priest banged her staff and the crowd parted with a hush as the sacrifice was lead forward.

Castiel stared in disbelief.

It was a human. A human in golden chains.

His people were offering him one of their own?!

For a moment Castiel was livid - they were already _his._ All of them. They were born his and they died his. They had been his since the war in heaven when he and his brothers were cast out by their father. He had taken the island and its people under his care and in return for their devotion, he had protected them for millennia from countless dangers. Typhoon, plague, raiders, drought and earthquake. Without Castiel’s protection the people of the island would have been wiped out a dozen times over.

Besides, he had _never_ asked for or accepted such a sacrifice. They were disobeying and insulting him to presume. _  
_

He glared indignantly, wings snapping out behind him in his anger. Perhaps there had been more trade with Lucifer’s humans of late and his people had been infected with his brother's bloodlust. There was no other explanation for their behavior.

Finally, Castiel actually looked at the human being chained to the pillar. It was a young male, just on the cusp of manhood, tall and strong, his golden skin anointed with holy oil.

Castiel forgot his anger as he frowned in confusion. It was not one of _his_ humans. Or one belonging to any of his brothers. The glowing light of the boy’s soul did not bear the mark of _any_ god.

A wild human. A godless barbarian.

Castiel had not seen one in centuries, not since he had the winds drive away the great wooden ships of the wild humans from across the sea, and this one was not at all as he recalled those violent desperate souls. His soul _burned_ , bright and golden like he’d swallowed the sun. Castiel stared, enraptured. He had never seen its like. His fingers curled at his sides, unconsciously longing to sink into the boy’s chest and feel the heat and pulse of that vibrant soul against his grace.

The priest stamped her staff again and the boy was dragged to the pillar. His head lolled, his movements lax and weak, but he struggled, tried in vain to fight his captors. Bruises marred his flesh and Castiel could see that he had been physically subdued before being drugged. The golden shackles clinked as his arms were fixed high above his head and another length of chain was wrapped around his waist.

“Oh great one!” the head priest called. “In glory of your name we offer you this one from beyond the sea!”

One of the lesser priests stepped forward on cue and tipped an urn of fresh seawater over the boy’s head, signifying the purity of the offering as the crowd sang out Castiel’s name excitedly.

The boy’s head snapped up, chest heaving as he panted and twisted, the shock of cold water drawing him from his stupor, and Castiel was struck dumb.

He had a face lovelier than any human Castiel had seen over his eons of existence, lovelier than any of Castiel’s brothers for that matter. That a mere mortal should have such beauty was in itself something of a blasphemy. Green eyes settled upon him, wide in shock and fear. It was an expression Castiel recognized, the look of a human faced with the divine for the first time. What wasn’t familiar was the way the boy continued struggling, chains rattling against stone.

Castiel felt his wings flare in display, felt his grace swell to crackle across his skin, the thud of his heart as anticipation welled up giddy inside him in preparation to fight or -- he looked again at the beautiful green-eyed thing twisting in his bonds before him – _mate._

The head priest stepped forward and fell to her knees at Castiel’s feet, head bowed beneath her golden headdress. “Oh great one, is he worthy?” she asked anxiously. “His light is too bright, I knew he must belong to the gods.”

Castiel regarded the human woman intently. Occasionally the priests that served him possessed the ability to observe souls, but he had not realized the trait had manifested in this generation. He was suddenly glad it had. If not, his humans most likely would have dealt with this golden youth the way they did any interloper. They were not a violent people, but outsiders were not welcome.

There was a low snap and Castiel turned from the priest to regard the boy again. He was glaring towards them and even though he appeared not to have moved, Castiel could see that he had managed to bend one of the links in the golden chain looped through his shackles. A line of blood tracked from under the golden cuff on his right wrist and down the smooth skin of his out-stretched arm. Castiel followed the bead with greedy intent. Its progression was halted by a thick jeweled band wrapped around the man’s bicep.

Belatedly, Castiel took in the manner his offering had been clothed, or rather unclothed. Heat filled his cheeks as he realized the boy had been prepared like a human for a mating ceremony. The jewelry of gold and polished stones was richer than the usual human fashion, and the oil he’d been anointed with was rich holy oil instead of the fragrant fruit oils the humans favored, but the markings inked across his pelvis and below his collarbones were mating ones, proclaiming him to be Castiel’s.

The thought of taking the green-eyed human to his roost and mating with him should have been obscene – _sin and abomination_ – but instead Castiel felt his wings twitch and a warm thrum start up in his blood as long forgotten instincts arose within him.

His wings snapped and shifted behind him in display as he crossed to stand before the golden boy. Those eyes were even more captivating up close, shades of soft green and hazel reflecting fear and awe, but also overwhelming defiance and anger. The human glared at Castiel like he was his equal, like Castiel and his humans would do well to fear _him._ The innocent arrogance of it was charming.

Castiel touched him, stroked along the lightly stubbled line of his jaw and took delight in the way his eyes flashed and he flinched away clenching his teeth. His bright soul rippled beneath his skin in agitation. When Castiel’s fingers smoothed curiously over the human’s full lips, the boy let out an angry little huffing noise, pulling at his chains as he leaned as far from the touch as he could. Castiel was struck with an intense desire to see what other noises he could wring from him.

“We accept your offering.” he told the priest without breaking from the boy’s gaze, speaking for the first time since landing. Around him his humans fell into reverent silence, not even breathing. “This one is ours.”

Castiel summoned his blade and drew it across his palm before tucking it away beyond human perception again. He dipped two fingers into the puddle of red blood and white-blue grace that welled in his palm and anointed the green-eyed boy’s head, marking him as his. The boy twisted and flinched, staring at the glow of Castiel’s grace in wide-eyed terror. He choked and thrashed when Castiel pressed two bloody fingers against his mouth, clenching his jaw shut and thinning his lips, but the shock of a God’s grace and life’s blood, the power of it, was too much for a human to resist. He softened almost instantly, slumping in his chains and obediently licking at Castiel’s fingers and swallowing it down.

With the hum of his blood and grace spreading through the boy’s body, it was easy for Castiel to gather his strength and call his power back to him as he wrapped his bloody palm around the human’s arm. His grace coursed between them, his blood the conduit, burning Castiel’s claim into the boy’s flesh and forging a thread of connection between human soul and immortal grace.

The boy moaned brokenly at the sensation, shivering, a fine sheen of sweat mixing with the oil on his skin, and Castiel felt a dark curl of possessive arousal low in his belly. Even before his father had cast him and his brothers from heaven, when he’d had his pick of lesser gods and goddesses to mate with, he’d never desired anyone in this manner.

He knew nothing of the boy strung up before him, nothing save he was lovely and his soul radiant, and yet had every intention of claiming him as his own. Of keeping him.

The boy said something in his barbaric human tongue and the low drawl of his voice was perfection. Unable to resist, Castiel sent a tendril of his grace out along the new connection between them and watched as the boy’s back arched and he flailed, reaching for Castiel with the hand he’d freed, forgetting his to maintain the pretense of the broken chain. Castiel let the boy grip at his shoulder and then _pushed_ from within with that tendril of grace, letting heat fill his human’s veins.

His eyes widened impossibly and a glorious noise of shocked rapture escaped that lush mouth. A delicious smell moistened the air between them and Castiel glanced down to see the splashes of white against the tanned skin of the human’s stomach. His green-eyed boy was shaking and gasping. He appeared entirely overwhelmed, his shock, confusion, fear and warm arousal seeping through the connection Castiel had just forged.

Around them the humans were chanting and cheering, ecstatic to have provided their god with a pleasing mate.

Turning back towards them, Castiel spread his wings wide and made a gesture of blessing with one hand, sending a tiny wave of his grace over the assembled crowd to demonstrate his pleasure and received thunderous cheers in response.

Wrapping an arm around his new mate, Castiel used his grace to remove the chains and shackles. Without their support the boy slumped bonelessly into him, and Castiel found the warmth of his body pressed against his oddly satisfying. His feathers twitched in anticipation and he spread his wings, ensuring his grip on his human was secure, and then leaped into the air amidst cheers and yelling from the crowd below.

He let them track his progress for a few moments, then slipped from their perception as he flew towards his roost with his prize. His human looked down once, let out a sharp disbelieving whine of fear, and then passed out. Castiel shifted his grip, pulling his new mate into the cradle of his arms fondly. Awakening him would be simple, but it was probably for the best that the poor thing rested a moment. When they reached his nest, Castiel would mate with him. Repeatedly. Until the claim he’d staked was sated and fulfilled and the beautiful green-eyed boy his for eternity.

Already his skin was flush with Castiel’s god’s blood and grace, changing him. By morning he would be Castiel’s mate and companion in all ways.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel’s roost was a series of caverns that opened out onto the sheer cliff-face of the mountain at the center of his island. There was no way to access it from the ground, although occasionally the more adventurous of the devoted would climb the peak to the ridge several hundred feet below the entrance and leave offerings there.

No one save Castiel had ever set foot in his nest. When Gabriel, Raphael or Michael visited they would meet at Castiel’s temple and let the human’s fawn over them for a while before flying with Castiel and relaying the latest news gleaned from Heaven as they flew together companionably.

When Castiel visited them he was likewise entertained by Michael and Raphael, although Gabriel, who had taken one of his priests - a dark-eyed beauty named Kali - as his mate several centuries earlier, had no qualms about receiving his brothers in the roost he shared with her. If anything, he took smug pleasure in showing how blissful his roost was now he shared it with a mate.

Castiel flew through the gaping mouth of the cave and landed more softly than usual, mindful of his precious cargo. The boy twitched a little in his arms, but did not wake as Castiel carried him towards the carefully constructed nest at the rear of the main cavern. A deep bowl depression in the rock lined with springy moss, feathers, furs and bright woven linens made up Castiel’s nest. As he placed his human down in the center, he wondered if he would have to expand it.

His human groaned and shifted. The sight of him, golden and beautiful, all loose-limbed in his sleep, the evidence of his earlier lust tacky and smeared across his stomach, drove all concerns over the size of his nest from Castiel’s mind. He climbed down beside him, wings flaring up for balance and settled himself over the boy, stroking along warm tanned flesh, licking and tasting him as he pleased.

His skin was still slick with fragrant holy oil, the richness of it tempered with salt from sea water and sweat. Beneath that though, Castiel could faintly taste _him._ His mate. It was faint, something lurking on the back of his tongue, but it was the best thing he’d tasted since being banished from Heaven.

Along with a smattering of scars and blooming bruises from his capture, there was a black mark inked over his human’s heart, an ancient symbol of protection, and Castiel scraped his teeth over it, tasting the old magic beaten into the skin there. Beneath him his human moaned at the sensation, nearing consciousness again and Castiel shifted his attention to that lovely face.

He entertained himself kissing his own blood from the boy’s mouth and licking at the plush cushion of his bottom lip until he felt his human awaken fully with a gasp and a jerk.

Instantly he was completely tense, fear radiating off him in waves. Castiel cooed at him softly, stroking a hand across his brow and through his short hair and letting his grace radiate safety. He had no intention of hurting his sweet young mate. The boy relaxed a little and tried to speak.

Castiel was unfamiliar with whatever crude human dialect he spoke however, and quickly grew weary of the complicated hand motions and gestures his mate was using to try and communicate. And the way he wiggled away from Castiel’s touch. Besides, he could guess what the boy was trying to tell him, it was undoubtedly a long complicated story about how a wild human came to be alone on Castiel’s island. There would be time for him to explain all that later. For the moment Castiel needed to complete the claim, his body fairly _ached_ with unfulfilled want for his mate.

The boy was currently pointing at himself and saying a word over and over again. Castiel repeated it back to him until his human was satisfied with his pronunciation. _Din. Deen. Dean._

Dean.

His mate was called Dean.

It was exotic and brutish and suited his glorious green-eyed mate with his lean muscled limbs and delicate features perfectly.

“Castiel.” he told Dean. “I am Castiel of the third sphere, god of solitude and tears.”

Dean didn’t understand Castiel anymore than he, but he awkwardly tripped over Castiel’s name a few times, blushing with embarrassment as he failed to pronounce it correctly. When he hesitantly offered back _“Cas?”_ Castiel deigned to let the small blasphemy of removing his father from his name slide. This was no normal mortal after all, he was Castiel’s chosen. “Cas.” he agreed.

His mate smiled shyly, said some jumble of alien words, and then tried to cover his nakedness with one of the blankets lining the nest.

Castiel caught his hands in his own, pulling him away. Dean regarded him warily and Castiel felt the thread of fear along the fledgling connection between them thicken. He could hear the question in Dean’s words, if not the meaning, so he could guess what his mate was asking him. _Where am I? What is happening?_

Since the boy didn’t speak a language even remotely related to that of any people Castiel had ever encountered, it was unlikely he had any idea what the islanders had intended to do with him. Their culture would be as alien to him as their speech. He’d probably assumed they meant to sacrifice him or something equally grisly. The mating rites of Castiel’s people would not have been recognizable to a godless one such as he. Castiel trailed his fingers over the sigils dyed into Dean’s skin along his collarbone, the ones proclaiming him Castiel’s.

Dean stilled at the touch and swallowed, the sound of his throat wet and clicking in the quiet of the cave, and that thread of fear from him intensified, but was joined by a much stronger pulse of desire.

Castiel smiled in pleasure. He was not touching Dean with his grace, just his fingertips. The desire his young mate felt was honest and real and immensely satisfying. He repeated the motion, tracing the identical sigils etched below Dean’s bellybutton, from hip to hip, and exulted in how that pulse of desire grew, how Dean’s breath became slightly labored even as he squirmed.

His mate’s hesitation was obvious, but confident that his attentions were bringing pleasure, Castiel decided the best way to relax his mate was to simply show him why he had brought him here. Giving the boy pleasure would demonstrate Castiel’s intentions, his desire, more than any combination of gestures or facial expressions might.

Recalling what he’d seen of the two young lovers on the beach, Castiel put his mouth to Dean’s skin, retracing the path his fingers had taken with his tongue. Dean jerked and gasped, let out a shocked little jumble of syllables and tried to pull at Castiel’s hair.

Castiel ignored him and licked along oil-slick skin, tasting salt and myrrh and _Dean._ That taste had a name now. When he lapped at the drying evidence of Dean’s earlier desire, his mate moaned in a way that made Castiel’s grace buzz with want. Castiel looked up and found Dean staring down at him flushed and wide-eyed, white teeth buried in the plump swell of his bottom lip.

As their eyes met he felt Dean’s member twitch with interest where it lay against him. The flush on Dean’s face darkened, embarrassment threading through the increasing thick onslaught of desire flooding their connection.

Slowly, holding those green eyes, Castiel shifted down amidst the furs and blankets until his breath was washing over Dean’s rapidly swelling length. When Castiel dragged his tongue across the head of it, tasting where Dean was wet and leaking slowly with want, his mate gasped, hips jerking as he let out some exclamation of shock or pleasure Castiel didn’t understand. He understood the lust battering at him through his claim though, and he took Dean into his mouth.

His mate’s back bowed and fingers twisted in his hair. Castiel hummed his pleasure and licked and sucked upon his mate, savoring the rich human taste of him and the decadent noises bubbling out of him. Thoroughly distracted by the pleasure Castiel was wringing from him, the fear and uncertainly faded from Dean’s side of their connection leaving only simple lust and desire.

It took the barest twinge of his power to grease his fingers with oil, and the noise Dean made when he swallowed him down deep and stroked across his entrance with a slick finger, was well worth it.

Under the lust that little hint of worry returned however, so Castiel didn’t try and breach him for the moment, just circled his tight rim, getting the soft skin there slick and wet with oil, teasing and hinting with no real pressure. When he finally pressed the tip of his finger inside the heat of his mate’s body, Dean whined and shied away, more panicked nonsense tumbling from his mouth.

Castiel tightened his grip on Dean’s hip and forced his mate to remain still as he slid his finger in deeper, testing the tight grip of his lover’s body.

Dean made a noise that wasn’t one of pleasure, and the eyes staring down at Cas were no longer glassy with lust alone. Dean was afraid.

Pulling off his flagging erection, Castiel shushed his fretting mate. He could tell from the anxiety and fear that most of Dean’s worry came from inexperience. He had accepted pleasure from Castiel’s mouth because he was accustomed to that type of physicality, but Castiel could see the purity of the rest of his body and knew that Dean had not taken a male lover before. As much as this thrilled him – the thought of another taking his mate was repugnant – he could not help but wish the boy was a little more accustomed to the idea. It was plain that he was not and Castiel had no words to reassure him with.

So instead he held Dean down and hushed him in soft gentle tones as he slowly worked his finger inside his body. Dean swallowed thickly, grabbing at Castiel, trying to push him away, panicked denials and protestations on his tongue. Despite Castiel’s gentle touch though, Dean refused to settle. He turned his head from Castiel’s kisses and wriggled where Castiel had him pined, trying in vain to escape his touch.

When Castiel slid another finger into the tight heat of him, he let out a pained cry and tears leaked from those pretty green eyes of his.

Castiel huffed in annoyance and withdrew his fingers from his mate. Dean went lax and mumbled something quiet and relieved sounding, but still tried to edge away. Deciding a demonstration of just how misplaced Dean’s fears over this form of mating were was required, Castiel sat back and flipped his human onto his stomach. This time when Dean squawked in displeasure, Castiel ignored him and spread his wings to hold his thrashing human down until he calmed.

It took some minutes, but eventually Dean, still groggy from whatever the priest had given him and exhausted from his ordeal, quietened. Castiel cooed at him and stroked down his back softly to demonstrate how pleased he was at Dean’s acceptance. He pushed calm reassurance at his mate through their connection, but all he received in response was a sort of weary acceptance. Dean expected Castiel to hurt him, take him by force.

The way his human braced himself, drew himself away, soul closing off and making itself small as his body went limp and still, chilled Castiel. The acceptance had a feeling of familiarity to it, he got the sense that his Dean had been hurt before, albeit not in the manner he was preparing himself for currently. Castiel frowned and pushed a little eddy of grace along his claim, tugging snatches of thoughts and feeling free from his mate’s psyche.

A horrible snarl of memory caught at him, fire and burning flesh and the stinging lash of something licking across a much younger Dean’s back. Castiel drew away in horror and found himself staring at faded white stripes across his mate’s back, marring his golden skin. Realization that someone had flogged his poor human hard enough to leave him bloody and scared, awoke a black rage within Castiel.

For a moment he froze, perched atop his mate, wings snapping back angrily and grace crackling in righteous indignantly, but then he heard Dean whimper, felt the shake of his body beneath him, and realized his little human thought it was _him_ his ire was directed at.

Instantly Castiel softened against him, curling his wings forward again, but so they softly blanketed rather than pinned, and shifted his weight from Dean’s thighs so the boy could roll onto his back once more.

His green eyes were wet with tears that he was obviously trying to keep in, and their connection was awash with a confusing mix of fear, arousal and shame. Now that he knew to look, Castiel could see further marks of pain and abuse upon his mate’s flesh. He was fully grown but young, old enough to have taken a mate and fathered children, but only by a few seasons or so. His skin should not have held so many marks. None of Castiel’s humans, even the oldest, bravest and most daring of the hunters, had so many.

A sad little keening noise bubbled out of Castiel’s throat at the thought that he had not been able to protect this one human, this special beautiful human with his green eyes and vibrant soul, as he had so many others.

Shock joined the myriad of emotions swirling between them.

Castiel burned to fulfill his claim upon Dean - he was swollen and aching beneath the linen wrap he wore slung around his hips - but he could not bear the thought of causing his poor sweet mate further pain. He needed to prove to Dean that he had no desire to hurt him, wished only to bring him pleasure, to love him and keep him, but could think of no way to do so.

Catching his mate’s eyes, Castiel traced a finger along a pink line below his ribs. It looked like a wound from a blade. “Dean.” he said, trying to communicate his intentions with just that one word.

Dean looked up at him with a softened expression, though still wary. “…Cas?” he asked, and Castiel heard the question there _‘if you aren’t going to hurt me, what do you want?’_.

Castiel contemplated sinking his fist into Dean’s chest and taking his soul in hand – he would be able to communicate directly with him then, no need for words, but without the claim between them completed, without Dean’s position as his mate and consort solidified, it would be agony for him. At a loss, Castiel tried to think of some other way to show Dean he should trust him.

He sucked in a breath as the obvious occurred to him. “Dean.” he said again, more confident.

His mate raised an eyebrow expectantly.

Castiel drew forth a little sliver of grace and dragged it over the scar beneath his ribs, making Dean shiver and gasp as the pink scar tissue dissolved into unmarred tan.

Dean blinked, staring down at the clear skin in shock. “Cas?” he said again, sounding wary but far less afraid.

Castiel smiled at him, pleased he seemed to be getting the message, and trusting Dean not to try and twist away, lifted his wings up to flare back over his shoulders. Dean gasped a little and stared. Castiel adjusted them slightly so that the most attractive arrangement of the black and gold feathers was on display for him. He then took Dean’s right arm in his own and used his grace to heal the bloody marks at his wrist where the shackles had bitten into him. Dean shuddered and held back a gasp, his flesh pebbling under Castiel’s fingers as he traced another faint scar above his elbow and a bruise on his bicep and healed them as well.

He slowly worked his way over his mate’s torso, tutting and huffing his displeasure at the obvious signs of mistreatment. The marks on Dean’s neck angered him especially. Faint memories of rough rope looped too tightly around a child’s neck as another even younger child cried seeped through his fingertips as he healed them. In comparison to Castiel’s mounting pain over Dean’s many scars, Dean himself seemed to be calming remarkably. When Castiel healed the marks around his neck he said his name and something else that Castiel was certain was meant in thanks.

Castiel smiled at him and motioned for him to roll over.

The fact that Dean did so, even if he was still hesitant, pleased him. However, having Dean beneath him again, no longer radiating fear and pain, but gratitude and contentment, made it much harder to ignore the mating compulsion.

Especially when Dean arched his back as Castiel healed the long white scars criss-crossing the small of his back. The play of muscle under the golden planes of Dean’s back and shoulders was captivating, even more so now the skin was unmarred. By the time Castiel healed the last lash-mark, a faint line curling across his back and around his side, he could no longer ignore it.

He furled his wings forward, stretching them over Dean, but gently, not restraining him, pressed kisses to the small of Dean’s back. His mate tensed and asked, sleepy sounding but worried, “Cas?”

“Dean.” Castiel told him, sending a pulse of warm _longing_ towards him through his fingertips. It wasn’t fair, exactly, to use his grace, but he _had_ to have Dean, the claim demanded it, and without words or time, there was no way to woo him properly.

Dean groaned and shivered and Castiel kissed him again, enjoying the warmth of his skin and the taste of him. Using his feathers to stroke tingling trails of grace and sensation over Dean’s shoulders and arms, Castiel stroked and rolled at the knotted muscles in his mate’s back until he was loose and pliant beneath him, his fears buried beneath the near stupor he was in. Only then did he finally let himself touch his mate as he longed. He curled his hands under Dean’s hips and lifted him slightly, licking softly at his entrance. It took a few minutes for Dean to surface from his near-sleep, and by that time Castiel was licking him open, dipping his tongue into him tasting the oil he’d pressed inside earlier.

“Cas!” Dean sounded shocked again, but instead of scared, something more like pleasant surprise echoed across to Castiel and he hummed in response before delving his tongue deeper.

Tasting Dean like that, feeling him trembling apart beneath him, both calmed and stoked the flames within Castiel. The linen of his wrap was too rough against his aching erection and he removed it with a thought. Dean remained oblivious. Castiel was carefully keeping his hips from him so as not to scare him with the evidence of his desire and the reminder of what this was leading to.

Castiel waited until Dean was rutting against the bedding in little unconscious movements before finally pressing a finger in alongside his tongue. He felt Dean tense, but before he could buck away he pressed forward, his hole stretched and wet enough that he could have taken two fingers easily, and rubbed against that bump inside that made men sing. Dean shuddered and let out a startled yelp of pleasure and Castiel drew back, sitting back on his haunches and steadily stroking that place inside his mate in measured pressure.

The urge to yank him closer and just sink into him – he’d be able to with how slick he’d gotten the boy – was too much for him to control and Castiel shifted closer, pulling Dean up onto his lap and stroking himself in time with his the movement of his finger.

He’d waited so long that it took only a few strokes to coax a climax from his body. Groaning his pleasure he painted his mate’s thighs and buttocks with it, making Dean twitch and gasp at the sensation. Seeing his seed on Dean’s skin, dragging his fingers through it and spreading his scent over him settled a portion of the mating drive he’d been battling with from the moment he’d pressed his bloody hand to Dean’s arm in the temple.

Dean was making little huffing noises, his hips rolling with the steady pressure Castiel was putting against his prostate, and Castiel could tell he was close to his own orgasm. Ignoring Dean’s confused whine as he withdrew and left him on the edge, Castiel gathered up his spilt seed and got his fingers slippery with it. He was already flush and hard again and he knew his control wouldn’t last much longer.

Dean tensed for a minute as Castiel pressed two slick fingers into him, but as soon as he started massaging his prostate again, he stopped fighting it. Castiel pushed his seed into him, marking Dean inside. His soul flared in reaction, Dean having now taken Castiel’s blood, semen and salvia into his body along with his grace. Even if Castiel didn’t complete the mating and claim him, Dean was god-touched and no longer entirely human. The sight of the changes his essence was causing stoked the possessive flame in Castiel’s heart.

Dean let out a particularly sweet noise of pleasure, long line of his back bowing backwards, and Castiel’s control unraveled. Two fingers became three and Dean yelped in complaint. Castiel pinned him down with a hand across the back of his neck and shoved them deep, reveling in the velvet heat of his mate’s body. Dean was wiggling again, voicing his discomfort and trying to get away, but Castiel’s patience was at an end. He made sure his fingers were slick but otherwise ignored his mate’s complaints.

He was a god, he’d already shown far more patience and kindness than a human had any right to expect. Besides which, Dean’s arousal was beating at him through their thickening connection, and Castiel knew for all his discomfort with the idea of mating in this way, he would enjoy it.

Taking hold of Dean’s hips, Castiel pulled him back and rutted up against him. He was wet with spit and oil and come, and Castiel’s erection slid between his cheeks and prodded against his opening in a slick tease. His mate was scrambling beneath him, bucking and trying to get away. He was prepared though, Castiel wasn’t going to injure him, and he was his mate and he _needed_ to finish the claim on him. Growling his frustration Castiel snapped his wings forward, using the heavy weight of them to help pin his mate.

Dean’s thrashing intensified, reaching back to try and scratch and shove at Castiel while he yelled and panted. Castiel could feel his mate’s fear, but knowing it was unfounded, instead of discouraging him it actually made him all the more eager. They way Dean’s muscles twisted and flexed as he wriggled was alluring and his panicked sweat was only making him smell all the sweeter.

Grabbing at his arms, Castiel twisted them behind Dean’s back and pressed down so he could hold him steady. The high-pitched wail he let out when Castiel finally pressed into him was immensely satisfying.

There was pain there, but only a little. Castiel had been thorough and though his mate’s virgin body was tight, the stretch of him wasn’t tearing anything and he managed to restrain himself a little, pressing his slicked flesh in only slowly.

Dean kept wriggling and bucking for a few minutes, whining and gasping his anger and fear, but Castiel just shushed him and slowly worked up a rhythm. Dean was hot and tight and perfect around him, and when Castiel pulled his hips a little higher and found the boy’s prostate, he flexed and quivered around him in a way that drew a low groan out of Castiel’s throat.

Dean quietened as Castiel focused his thrusts with unerring precision, drawing pleasure out of his unwilling mate.  The light of Dean’s soul brightened and throbbed as he tried to deny himself the ecstasy Castiel wished to give him, ignoring the bright sparks of sensation Castiel could see flashing inside him and stifling the noises trying to come out of his throat.

Growling his frustration at his human’s stubbornness, Castiel released his arms, letting his mate fall forward. Dean huffed in surprise and then was clawing at the bedding, trying to pull himself out of Castiel’s reach, but the grip the god had on his hips was unshakable and all he did was earn himself a hand shaped bruise there to match the mating brand on his arm.  Snapping his wings forward to cocoon them and disorientate Dean won Castiel enough time to get his free hand beneath his mate and wrapped around his erection.

A breathy noise came out of his human and he turned to glare at Castiel over his shoulder. The pretense was futile though, even if Castiel hadn’t been able to see inside the boy and see exactly how much he was enjoying Castiel’s attentions, the way he was thick and leaking all over Castiel’s hand would have been enough.

Castiel tugged at him in time with a perfectly aimed thrust and Dean’s eyes squeezed shut and even though he bit his bottom lip a breathy moan escaped him.

“Dean.” Castiel said, cajoling, tempting.

His human groaned in what might have been refusal or surrender, but on the next thrust his hips shifted back towards Castiel instead of away and on the one after that his eyes opened and he groaned Castiel’s name. Sensing his victory, Castiel practically purred and set about mounting his mate in earnest, burying himself as deep and as hard as he could. Dean went all pliant and soft before him, a long stretch of golden skin wrapped around a sweet humming human soul. Delicious noises bubbled out of him, louder and louder as Dean lost himself to sensation, choked gasps and high-pitched moans until he was pleading low and desperate, and even though Castiel did not understand his mate’s words, he was a god and he recognized a prayer when he heard one.

Unable to deny him, Castiel sat back on his haunches, dragging his mate onto his lap so he was impaled at deeply as possibly. Dean reached for him, arching backwards and keening more of his barbarian nonsense. Castiel snarled and let his seed pump deep within him as he buried his teeth in the unblemished skin of Dean’s neck.

The white out pleasure of the mating claim flaring to full strength between them robbed Castiel of his senses for a moment and when he returned to himself, Dean was slumped against him, belly painted with his own seed, wide-eyed and shaking.

“Cas,” he said, sounding shocked, then followed up with a tumble of low vowels that made no sense at all.

Castiel hummed in response, satisfied for the moment, and lapped at the salt of his mate’s skin. The bond formed by the claim thrummed with the light of Dean’s soul and Castiel pulled his mate back into the bedding to bask in it, curling arms and wings around him protectively.

Dean kept mumbling quietly, still shocked and nervous, but too sated and exhausted to fear anymore. He fell asleep in minutes and awoke only briefly to mutter irritably and glare sleepily at him when Castiel withdrew his softening flesh from him.

Castiel remained in the nest far longer than usual. He required little sleep and usually only did so when bored or exhausted after some particularly arduous task. His new mate was fascinating though. Castiel delighted in holding him, warm and soft in his arms, smelling of fresh divinity and Castiel’s adoration.

Castiel recalled observing the differences in Gabriel’s mate Kali with interest when his brother claimed her, but seeing his own mate’s soul glow and brighten into the grace of godhood was something else entirely. It sung to him when he pressed against Dean’s skin, reaching out to his own grace in a way that was enthralling. By the time dawn crept grey into his roost Dean had taken on the full aspect of his new divinity and a pair of wings, golden brown, had sprouted from his shoulders.

Castiel preened them, carefully arranging the delicate young feathers for his mate, and eagerly awaited his awakening. The sun had risen almost to its zenith and Castiel was half mad with anticipation when Dean opened glass green eyes and spread his wings for the first time.

Castiel was struck speechless. His mate had made a gorgeous human, but he made a truly exquisite god. The dappled golden wings were as delicately formed as his lovely face and the combined effect was mesmerizing. Dean was undoubtedly the most beautiful thing Castiel had ever seen, perfect and unmarred save for Castiel’s red brand stark on his arm. The sight of it, the fact that the perfect creature in front of Castiel was _his_ had a satisfied rumble echoing deep in his chest. Unable to resist, he reached forward and gripped Dean by his mark, drawing a startled gasp from his mate as their mating bond flared to life between them making his fledgling wings flap and twitch.

Castiel had perhaps a minute to bask in the glory that was his mate before Dean snarled at him, flared his wings and putting his new speed and strength to good use – twisted away from his hold as he lashed out with the power of his new grace. Too shocked to react, Castiel sat and watched as his mate darted across the cavern and threw himself from the roost, golden wings glinting in the sun as they spread to bear him away.

  

amazing art by [neva](http://snuggydean.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> complete for now, but I will be adding more.


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